Too Perfect
by Tangerine53
Summary: Seven years have passed and little has changed for Arnold and the gang as they wrap up their junior year of high school, but this next summer is going to be anything but typical. While Arnold and Lila are recruited as counselors at Camp What-a-Nut, Helga is shipped off to Boston to spend three months with Olga, and the experiences they have are about to change their lives forever.
1. Summer Vacation

Hey, everyone! My name is Tangerine53, and I am so incredibly excited to be writing on Fanfiction again after over 5 years! Quite a dry spell, to say the least (I know), but how can you not be inspired by Hey Arnold!, I ask you? I thoroughly enjoyed the cartoon as a kid, but watching it again as an adult has sparked a new love for it within me, one I never had before as a child (at least not to this extent). It's just so amazing! I am excited to share own ideas beyond the initial series as well as stretch my writing muscles once again. Hopefully, I'm not as dusty as I think I am. ;) If you enjoy my writing and are interested in reading any of my previous work (some of which was written over 10 years ago!), please do. Make sure you leave reviews with your thoughts as well! Also, please do leave reviews as you read through this story as well. I welcome any and all feedback, and love to hear how people are reacting to my work. Who knows, it may even spur me on to update faster. ;) Fair warning: I am in grad school as well as work a full time job, so I may not have the chance to write and update as much as I'd like, but I promise to attempt it in a timely fashion. Now, enough of my ramblings. You didn't come to read those, you came to read about our favorite football head. This story takes place after the series and Hey Arnold! The Movie.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Hey Arnold!" Gerald waved to his best friend as he walked out the doors of P.S. 118. It had been a long time since the two had darkened those doorways – seven years, to be precise. But when Mr. Simmons requested an audience, you answered. Especially Arnold. Mr. Simmons had been his favorite teacher, and a mysterious summons needed no further prompting to bring him hurrying over to their former elementary school after class let out.

"Hey, Gerald." Arnold descended the stairs and strode over to the stack of black hair leisurely, his usual, nonchalant smirk firmly affixed to his indifferent expression.

"So, what did Mr. Simmons want, man?" Gerald asked, brimming with curiosity.

"He wanted to know if I'd be a counselor at Camp What-a-Nut this summer," Arnold replied.

"That's awesome! You gonna do it?"

"I think I might, Gerald. It's a great opportunity."

"Yeah, and you're great with kids."

"He asked Lila to be a counselor too," Arnold said, attempting to appear as casual as possible.

"Uh-huh." Gerald drew the vowels out in a manner Arnold knew only too well. "So that's why you're doin' it."

"That's not the only reason," Arnold countered.

"It may not be the only reason, but it's certainly the first one on your list. Admit it, Arnold, you've been holdin' out for Lila since the fourth grade."

"So what if I have?"

The boys waited for the crossing signal's red hand to dissolve into the image of a glowing white man, then proceeded across the street and continued their mosey along the sidewalk.

"So you're thinkin' that if you two spend the summer together as counselors she might actually start to "like you" like you," Gerald reasoned, then sighed. "I can't believe I just used that phrase. How old are we?"

Arnold grinned. "Seventeen."

"Exactly. Face it, Arnold, if she hasn't developed feelings for you by now, she probably never will."

"Probably still leaves room for reasonable doubt."

"There you go again," Gerald sighed.

"What?"

"Looking on the bright side."

Arnold grinned again. "Somebody has to," he said.

"I just hope your sunny optimism doesn't end up letting you down one of these days."

"Don't worry, Gerald. At best, Lila and I will end up spending a lot of time together and maybe something will come of it. At worst, I'll spend the summer having fun with a bunch of kids. Either way, it'll be great," Arnold said, stopping in front of his grandparents' boarding house.

"You got a point there," Gerald assented with a nod. "When do you leave?"

"Next week."

"How long is camp?"

"Practically all summer. I'll get back about a week before school starts back up."

"Well, I'm happy for ya, but I was also lookin' forward to spending the summer together," Gerald admitted, a melancholic note entering his tone momentarily.

"I know, Gerald. I was too. I'm sorry." Arnold placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder with a sigh.

"Ah, don't sweat it. We'll have plenty of time to make some epic senior memories next school year," Gerald said, shrugging Arnold's hand off his shoulder and praying the expression of concern in his eyes would disappear just as swiftly. Thankfully, it did.

"Definitely," Arnold agreed.

The two friends exchanged their signature handshake.

"I'll hold ya to it, no matter what happens with Lila," Gerald said with a wink, resuming his mosey down the sidewalk toward his own abode.

Arnold chuckled as he proceeded up the boarding house stoop and placed a hand on the knob of his front door. "Don't worry," he said, opening the door to let the slew of animals within stampede down the stairs and out into the street, disappearing into the adjoining alley. "Whatever happens, next year is gonna be our year, I promise."

Very little had changed for the football head in seven years, except for the fact this his body had become ever so slightly more proportionate with the exaggerated shape of his oblong cranium. His grandparents, though several years older, were still as spry as ever, and the tenants at the boarding house hadn't changed. Oskar, Susie, Ernie, and Mr. Hyunh – a motley crew, to say the least, but they were his crew. He still thought about his parents from time to time. The journal he'd found in the attic years prior rested peacefully upon the top shelf of his bookcase beside their picture, which he had finally removed from the drawer in the wall beside his bed. His grandfather had then had it framed so he could display it prominently, and it suited the room perfectly. It no longer caused him pain to look at it – quite the opposite, in fact. Even though the mystery of just why his parents had never returned from San Lorenzo still remained unsolved, hearing the rest of the story in his father's own words had managed to finally soothe the boy's restless soul regarding the matter. He had been loved; he had been special; and somehow, knowing this, he didn't feel like quite so much of an orphan anymore, and he had begun to fully embrace his life in the boarding house. He couldn't imagine his life without each and every one of the eccentric boarders who lived there, as much as they might aggravate him more often than not. He had never known anything else, and he didn't want to.

* * *

"Yes sir, there's gonna be some major changes around here, Olga."

Helga rolled her eyes as she watched her father pace the floor of Big Bob's Beepers, her cheek cradled in the palm her hand, elbow resting on the front counter.

"Still Helga, Dad," she sighed heavily.

"Eh?" He paused temporarily and raised a quizzical eyebrow, observing his youngest daughter skeptically. "Whatever," he said, and resumed his pacing, "the point is that this place is gonna be completely revamped for the twenty-fist century."

"I know, Bob, I've only been hearing about it for the past six months."

"It's gonna kill me to close up for three months, but it'll be worth it. You know what this means, though, don't ya? You're gonna be out of job, girl."

"Big Bob's Beepers isn't the only place in town, Dad. I'm sure I'll find another job for the summer," Helga said.

"Uh-uh, your mom and I have already talked about it and we think this is the perfect opportunity for you spend a little, uh, 'quantity time' with your big sister."

Helga's eyes nearly shot out of her head they widened so quickly. "What?"

"She called the other day and offered to have you come spend the summer with her and Chet. They'll show you around Boston, take you on a few college tours, and you can help them with the kids," Bob said.

"What makes you think for even one millisecond that I'd want to spend my summer walking around college campuses and babysitting Olga's brats?" she cried.

"Hey, hey, hey, that's enough out of you, little lady," Bob scolded. "Let's put it this way: you are going to stay with Olga for the summer, and that's that."

"Criminy!" And with that exclamation, Helga pushed herself out of her seat and stormed out of the beeper emporium.

"You better be goin' to pack!" Bob called as the automatic doors closed behind her.


	2. The Drugstore on the Corner

Well, here comes Chapter 2! I have been incredibly encouraged by the few reviews I've received so far and truly look forward to reading more. That being said, please keep them coming, both new and returning readers alike! I love to hear how my story is being received and am open to any and all critiques you may have as well. Additionally, if you have any specific questions or comments, I would be more than happen to address them at the beginning of each new chapter in a special note. That being said, here are a few notes for specific readers before we get started. Enjoy Chapter 2, and don't forget to leave me your thoughts!

Anna: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad you found Bob's voice to be in character. Whenever I write a fanfic I spend a lot of time trying to make sure I'm being true to the characters already created, in everything from their dialogue to their mannerisms. I hope I've been as true in this chapter. I'm actually pretty proud of it. :)

Call Me Nettie: I, too, am a devout Shortaki supporter. Arnold and Helga forever! I hope this story will not disappoint you.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Helga had no intention of going home.

Not much had changed in her world either, or at least not yet. Clearly things were about to change in a big way, at least where "Big Bob" was concerned. The old beeper emporium had needed an upgrade for years now, and it was finally getting it. Her father had put her to work in the "family business" the day after she had graduated from junior high. Ever since then her summers and evenings had consisted of selling outdated electronics to middle-aged businessmen on the verge of retirement. With his demographic rapidly ageing out of the workforce, Bob had been forced to invest his valuable cash in not only renovations but an entirely new selection of merchandise as well. For Helga, this had initially meant a summer of freedom, one in which she would find some other way to supplement her income while also enjoying a few months of independence from her over-bearing father. Of course, he was only over-bearing when it concerned his company. The rest of the time he barely gave her a second thought, and Miriam's behavior was so erratic it was impossible to even hold a conversation with her, much less form a real relationship.

During the brief moments when she wasn't working at Bob's, though, she found solace in her poetry – that and her position on the high school softball team. Over the past few years she had dedicated all her free time, what little there was, to refining her skills as a pitcher. The results had not disappointed. Helga G. Pataki was quite the powerhouse, known throughout the district for her flawless windup and speed. Tall and slender with a single tail of blond hair, often held in place by a thin, pink ribbon, she never wore a speck of make-up. Still, her reputation preceded her, and she commanded – nay, demanded – the respect of nearly every student in the school with her moody, brash, and argumentative mannerisms. Yes, very little had changed, including her love for a certain football head and his wistful optimism. True, the shrine in her closet no longer included a life-sized replica of Arnold's likeness, but the entire back wall was overwhelmed with pictures cut out of yearbooks and newspapers – anything she could get her hands on. And a large, cardboard box in the veiled back corner contained every diary she had ever kept since she was nine.

She marched down the street (never mind the so-called womanly gait she occasionally attempted to imitate) and stopped at the door of a familiar brownstone, rapping smartly upon it.

"Pheebs!" she called.

A shy sounding, "Coming!" met her ears as the door was promptly opened to reveal a short young lady with several prominent Japanese features. Her jet-black bangs draped over her forehead, resting ever so slightly upon the thick rim of her glasses.

"Big Bob's done it again!" Helga blustered into the house, pushing right past Phoebe and proceeding up the stairs to her room as the girl closed the door behind her, readjusting the glasses on her face.

"What exactly has he done, Helga?" she asked, hurrying after her.

"Managed to ruin my already pathetic excuse for a life even more, that's what."

"I'm afraid you'll need to provide a little more context," Phoebe said.

Helga plopped down on her best friend's bed, propping her form up on her elbows, which she dug firmly into the mattress. "He's sending me to live with Olga for the summer!" She drew out the "O" the way she always did with the obligatory, complementary eye-roll.

"Olga? Whatever for?"

"Because she called and offered, apparently."

"Perhaps she's trying to mend some broken fences," Phoebe suggested.

"Perhaps she's trying to find a free babysitter for three months, all the while still looking like the golden child by offering her home to me like I'm some sort of charity case."

"Still, don't you think it was generous of her?"

"Criminy, Phoebe, whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Yours, of course, Helga," Phoebe replied.

Helga sighed. "Instead of enjoying my first summer of freedom in three years, it'll be all I can do to keep from pulling all my hair out and coming home completely bald."

Phoebe chuckled despite herself and the harsh look she received from her cross counterpart. "I'm sorry, Helga," she said finally, sitting down on the bed beside her and placing a comforting hand on her back. "Really."

Helga sighed again and collapsed fully upon the bed, burying her cheek in the soft sheets. She didn't shrug Phoebe's hand off her back as she would have anyone else's. Phoebe was the only person she had ever allowed to get this close to her, or had ever dared to.

* * *

The next day Helga entered the drugstore on the corner with a list of essentials for her suitcase. She was going to need three months' worth of shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, deodorant, and "unmentionables," after all. She grabbed a basket from the stack by the door and strode into the store, making a beeline for the toiletries. However, when the all-too-familiar voice of her heart's desire, soft and somewhat deadpan, reached her ears, she ducked down the nearest aisle without a second thought as to what it contained.

"This is gonna be great, Lila."

"Lila!" Helga whispered to herself, brow furrowing angrily as she slammed her fist fiercely into the palm of her other hand.

"Oh, Arnold, I'm ever so excited! It's oh so wonderful that Mr. Simmons asked you to be a counselor too. We're going to have so much fun! I've always wanted to do something like this. Only, I hope I'll be a good counselor. I'm just the tiniest bit nervous about it. What if the kids don't like me? I don't think I could bear it."

"That's impossible, Lila," Arnold said. "I know they'll love you. If anyone would make a perfect camp counselor, it's you."

"Oh, Arnold, you're ever so sweet. Thank you," Lila replied, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Helga watched as the boy blushed and tried rather unsuccessfully to shake the goofy grin spreading across his lips. Seething, she gritted her teeth.

"Well, it's true," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"You're going to be a wonderful camp counselor too, Arnold. You're always so kind and considerate. I'm sure the kids will learn a lot from you."

Cheeks growing redder by the second, he finally managed to stutter, "Thanks," in response to Lila's compliment.

"Well, I'd better get home to finish packing. See you Sunday, Arnold!"

"Bye!"

Helga slid down onto the floor with a desperate sigh.

"Oh, Fate!" she exclaimed to herself. "How can you be so relentlessly cruel and unfeeling toward my plight? Not only have you torn me from the pinnacle of my heart's desire and relegated me to three months with a sickeningly optimistic, overshadowing relation, but you have also removed him even further from my grasp by carting him off to summer camp with Lila, the object of his adolescent affections and the very bane of my existence. My only consolation is her constant insistence that she returns none of his romantic aspirations. Still, this brings little succor to my anxious heart in the face of three months of separation from my beloved's side. Given three months of constant contact, Lila is sure to realize the myriad qualities I already see in him each day, the qualities I have so long worshipped from afar without the courage to confess my true feelings.

"Oh, Arnold, why am I still unable to profess my love to you? Why must I be so dismissive and callous when you have never been anything but kind and compassionate to everyone you meet, including me? Yes, even I who am so undeserving. You have always tried to understand me. Why am I unable to do what Lila does so freely – compliment you and make you feel like the truly special, beautiful boy you are? Will I forever be bound by my own emotional inadequacies? Oh, Arnold, wait for me! Do not fall even further under Lila's spell, for one day I will find a way to tell you, my love. Yes, one day I vow to tell you all the feelings in my truly tender heart, if only you will give me the chance."

Her left hand now held the small, golden heart that hung around her neck on a thin, barely noticeable thread of gold. The larger locket she had once possessed had long since been replaced by this miniscule model, which now opened and closed rather than hanging conspicuously for anyone to see. However, a tiny, more recent photo of Arnold still rested inside.

Climbing to her feet, she resumed her shopping, lost in her own thoughts of teenage tragedy. Three months with Olga. Arnold going to camp with Lila. It wasn't fair. It was too much. How would she be able to bear it? She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the boy coming around the corner of the next aisle and barreled right into him.

"Arnold!" she exclaimed instantly.

"Oh, Helga," he said, "I didn't see you."

"Then maybe you should pay more attention to where you're going, football head," she spat in response.

"I guess I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry," he said good-naturedly.

"What's got your head all in the clouds?" She rolled her eyes and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Nothing really, I guess I'm just excited for summer vacation."

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, spend three months in a tent in the woods?" She indicated his basket with a skeptical glance at the bottles of bug spray, hydrocortisone, and Neosporin, not to mention the multiple packs of Band-Aids.

"Not in a tent, but I will be in a cabin. Mr. Simmons asked me to be a counselor at Camp What-a-Nut this summer."

"Ha!" she scoffed with a derogatory guffaw. "You, a counselor? They must be teaching How to Be a Space Cadet 101 this summer."

Arnold just looked at her with his signature stare of disinterest that had helped him filter out many of her less than encouraging remarks over the years.

"Just make sure none of the kids drown on your watch, Arnoldo."

"I'll do my best," he said, rolling his eyes. As he did so, he caught sight of her own basket and decided to delicately change the subject. "It looks like you're going on a trip too, Helga."

"What makes you say that?" She looked down into her basket of toiletries.

"I just thought you might be packing for something, unless you just happened to run out of everything in your bathroom at the same time," Arnold replied with a shrug.

"How very perceptive, Arnold. As a matter of fact, I'll be spending the summer with Olga." She drew the "O" out again as she always did and rolled her eyes.

"That sounds like fun." An encouraging smile graced Arnold's lips.

"Fun? How could it be fun? Olga's the most annoying person in the entire world."

"But she's married now, right, and she has kids? That should be fun, getting to spend time with your nieces and nephews."

"Huh." Helga crossed her arms resolutely. "Hardly. It's going to be the worst summer of my life."

"Oh, come on, Helga, it can't be that bad."

"What do you know about it, football head?"

"You're right, Helga," Arnold said. "I don't know anything about your relationship with your sister, but maybe you shouldn't be so negative about it, then you might enjoy yourself."

"Can it, Arnold," she said as they walked toward the checkout counter together. "If you could stop looking on the bright side for just one second you'd realize that Olga and I don't have anything in common and spending three months in Boston with her isn't my idea of a good time."

"Well, why do you have to go?"

She shrugged then starting unloading the contents of her basket. "I guess my parents figure it's the easiest way to get me out of their hair since Dad's closing up his store for renovations this summer. As if that's the only place in town to work." She rolled her eyes again.

"Oh yeah, I forgot your dad was renovating. That'll be nice."

"I guess. It's about time he brought his business into the twenty-first century."

"Well, I still hope you have a good summer, Helga. Who knows, you could end up having a really nice time."

"Don't count on it," she grumbled, dropping her last item onto the counter.

Her cheeks went instantly pink as she noticed what the item was then turned back to see if Arnold had noticed too. Sure enough, the football head's face was rather obviously rotated the opposite direction, his own cheeks glowing red as Helga furiously attempted to hurry her package of pads down the conveyor belt.


	3. Off to Camp

Well, here comes Chapter 3! Thank you to all who have reviewed my story thus far and shared your thoughts. Please keep leaving me comments when you get the chance! They spur on my inspiration and help me know your thoughts on my writing/the story as it unfolds. Now - read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Now, Arnold, you know what this car means to me," his grandfather said, following the boy around the side of the boarding house to the garage around back.

"I know, Grandpa. You don't think I'd let anything happen to it, do you?"

"No, I don't think you would, but I keep it in the garage where it's nice and safe. If you take it to camp then it'll be sitting outside, exposed to the elements all summer."

Arnold lifted the large, manual door with a slight heave to reveal his grandfather's moss-tinted Packard lounging luxuriously in the dim light of the boarding house garage.

The fresh, brilliant sun of early morning now shining through the open doorway, the Packard began to shimmer under its rays. It was immaculate. Unfortunately, it hadn't been driven in quite some time, give or take a few weekends when Arnold and Gerald had taken it out of the city to enjoy a change of scene and a day of fishing. As much as he loved the car, Phil hadn't been behind the wheel since Arnold got his license a year ago. Even though he was still as wily as ever, he had to admit that he was slowing down. Still, the Packard was his pride and joy, and allowing Arnold to use it for an entire summer was asking quite a lot of the old man, even though he knew the vehicle would be Arnold's one day anyway, not to mention the fact that his grandson was one of the most responsible people he had ever known.

"If you really don't want me to take it, I won't," Arnold said, turning to face him.

Phil sighed. "No, Arnold, I want you to take it. It'll just sit in the garage for three months anyway. But be very careful with it, you hear? That car's the love of my life."

Arnold smirked and placed a hand on his grandfather's shoulder. "Don't worry, Grandpa; nothing's gonna happen to the Packard. Thank you for trusting me with it. I know it wasn't an easy decision for you."

The older man shrugged. "It's basically yours now anyway, short man."

"Not yet," Arnold said with a slight shake of his head.

The two men stood there in silence for a moment, then Arnold glanced at his watch. "Wow, I'd better get goin'. I told Lila I'd pick her up at eight."

"You got everything you need?" Phil asked.

"I think so." Arnold nodded, then walked around to the driver's side of the glimmering Packard and opened the door.

"Well, here's the keys." Phil proffered the gift hesitantly.

Arnold smirked then snatched them from his grandfather's hand, sliding into the vehicle and closing the door. He started the ignition and rolled down the window. "Thanks again, Grandpa. I'll be back before you know it."

"Wait up, Tex!" His grandmother burst through the inner door to the garage and clambered down the steps, a large, ten-gallon hat resting atop her gray mop of hair.

"Grandma!" Arnold leapt out of the car in a moment of panic. It was only too easy for him to see her falling down the stairs and snapping her neck in her haste. "You can't run down the stairs like that anymore."

"Don't worry about me, Tex. I just packed some grub for you and your friend to eat on your roundup." The woman handed him a brown paper bag.

Arnold smiled warmly. "Thanks, Grandma," he said, hugging her affectionately.

"Saddle up now, Tex, and watch out for cattle rustlers!"

He chuckled and returned to the car. "I'll see you in August!" he called, then began to back out of the driveway and onto the street. Glancing in the rearview mirror just before pulling away, he saw his grandmother waving farewell and his grandfather shaking his fist, yelling, "And don't let your little friend get any crumbs on the seats!" before they were both swallowed up in the cloud of exhaust the Packard left in its wake.

* * *

"Oh, Arnold, this is such a treat, riding in your grandfather's old Packard," said Lila as Arnold merged the vehicle onto the open highway. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, and there wasn't a single car on the road. "Thank you for picking me up."

"No problem," he said, tossing her a soft smile and watching out of the corner of his eye as the girl in the seat beside him adjusted the sunglasses on her slender nose in the side view mirror.

Camp wouldn't start until the following day, but the staff and counselors were required to come a day early to ensure everything was in order: cabins cleaned, food prepared, supplies gathered, etc. It was a two-hour drive out of the city to Camp What-a-Nut, and Arnold and Lila chatted the entire way, reminiscing over the past school year and dreaming about the next. Arnold had made almost as much of a name for himself as Helga had as shortstop on the school's baseball team. Still, as much as he loved the sport and was looking forward to the next season, he wasn't planning on pursuing his athletic career into college. Historically, he had always played for fun and imagined it would only take the enjoyment out of the game if he were to turn it into a job. Lila, too, had claimed her place as a star pupil of Hillwood High, second only to the infamous Rhonda Lloyd in popularity and admiration. She was as sugary-sweet as the day she had joined Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class at P.S. 118, and still occasionally wore her auburn hair in two delicate braids on either side of her head. Most of the time, however, she now wore it loose and flowing down her back, every so often pinning her bangs to the side with a small, green barrette. Football season in the fall, basketball season in the spring, Arnold had loved them both for the sole purpose of sitting on the bleachers, watching Lila's silky smooth hair glisten under the stadium lights as she dazzled the crowd with her cheers. Cheerleading wasn't the only thing Lila excelled at, though; indeed, she had proven her versatility and substance as not only a member of the Honors Society but the French club as well, and also served as a collaborator on the school's yearbook committee. Arnold, himself, was also a member of the Honors Society and wrote an occasional article for the school paper.

"Are you thinkin' about college, Lila?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, though I don't really know what I want to do yet," she replied.

"That's ok. We're only seventeen. I don't know how everyone expects us to know what we want to do with the rest of our lives already."

"Me either," she agreed. "You know what you want to do though, don't you, Arnold?"

"Well, kinda." He shrugged. "I always thought I might want to travel like my parents, but I have a pretty good idea Grandma and Grandpa are going to leave me the Sunset Arms when they pass. I like it here, so I wouldn't mind coming home to manage the boarding house eventually, but hopefully I'll be able to do something that allows me an opportunity to travel before that happens. I've been thinking about archeology recently. I know my parents were doctors, but I don't think medical school is for me."

"Really? I think you'd be a wonderful doctor, Arnold," Lila said.

"You do?"

She nodded. "Oh, yes. You're so caring and thoughtful; I'm sure you'd have the perfect bedside manner and bring ever so much comfort to people in times of crisis."

He grinned. "Wow. I guess I've never really thought about it before."

"And you're certainly smart enough to do it, if that's something you're worried about."

He could feel his cheeks growing red again. "Thanks, Lila. I might have to think about it some more."

"I think you should," she said with a decisive nod.

"You should too. I think you'd be a fantastic doctor," he said, turning the compliment around.

"I have thought about being a nurse," she said thoughtfully.

"That's great, Lila. You should go for it."

"Maybe I will," she said. "Oh, Arnold, wouldn't it be too wonderful if we ended up being doctor and nurse at the same hospital?"

A satisfied grin slowly spread across the boy's lips as he allowed his thoughts to wander into the distant future. A picture of the two of them, he dressed in a long white coat and she in a pair of slimming green scrubs, was beginning to form. She was pressed against his form, giggling and gazing rapturously into his eyes. Apparently he had just said something incredibly witty, though just what that smart statement was his vision hadn't been kind enough to impart.

"Yeah," he murmured instead, "wonderful."

* * *

The Packard drove underneath Camp What-a-Nut's welcoming sign and pulled up in the small lot behind the largest cabin on the grounds. Inside, half of the cabin was lined with rows of long tables and a cafeteria-style buffet for mealtimes. The other half acted as a game room, containing a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, a foosball table, and several other smaller tables stacked with decks of cards and checkerboards. Food and fun: a kids' paradise. To the left, a volleyball court stood beside a large, open field, which would host a variety of sporting events throughout the summer. The paths to the right led to a large lake perfect for freshwater fishing, swimming, and canoeing. The grounds also contained a barn with horses and a small plot of land beside it for a garden, which the children would learn to tend over the course of the summer. Hiking trails ran all through the woods surrounding the estate as well. Of course, the focal point of the camp was the massive fire pit in front of the main cabin with dozens of log-seats circled about it. Every night the day's activities would end right here, with a few songs and a few s'mores.

"Howdy, Arnold, Lila!" Stinky Peterson waved and walked down the steps leading up to the back door of the main cabin. "Glad to see ya made it."

"Oh, good, Arnold, you and Lila are here." Mr. Simmons followed in Stinky's wake along with several other camp staff. "You didn't have any trouble along the way, I take it."

"Not at all," Arnold replied, shaking his head.

"The drive was ever so pleasant," Lila agreed with a nod.

"We're not late though, are we?" Arnold surveyed the gathering before them concernedly.

"Oh no," Mr. Simmons assured him, "In fact, you and Lila are the first counselors to arrive. There was a little more prep work involved for some of us senior staffers, so we came on ahead yesterday evening. Now, Stinky, why don't you show Arnold to his cabin and I'll have Nadine show Lila to hers. After you're finished setting up there," he glanced at his watch, "let's say in about half an hour, why don't you meet me back here and we'll get started? By that time some of the other counselors should have arrived. There really isn't much left to be done, but I want you all to get familiar with the layout of the camp and the daily routines we've planned out for the kids. Also, Lila, I was hoping you'd be able to assist us with some of the horseback riding lessons this year."

Lila's face lit up as she clasped her hands together joyously. "Oh, I'd be ever so happy to, Mr. Simmons! You have no idea how excited I was when I learned there would be horses here. I was hoping I'd be able to help with them in some way."

"Your skills will be greatly appreciated, Lila," Mr. Simmons said with a nod. "Now you two go get set up in your cabins and I'll see you in half an hour." And with that he retreated back into the main cabin with the other staff, leaving Arnold, Lila, Stinky, and Nadine standing in the parking lot.

"C'mon, Arnold, I'll show ya to your cabin," Stinky said as Arnold lifted the hatch on the back of the Packard to remove the luggage.

"Is Lila's cabin on the way?" he asked, surveying the three large bags at his feet, two of which belonged to Lila.

"Don't worry, Arnold, we can manage," Nadine assured him, taking a handle in each hand and passing one to Lila before the boy had a chance to snatch them from her.

"Are you sure?" He cocked a doubtful eyebrow at the girls. "I don't mind."

"It isn't far," Nadine replied.

"But thank you for offering," Lila added with a smile as the two girls started down the path to the right.

Arnold smiled back then returned his attention to the Packard where a guitar case still lay in the trunk. Slinging it onto his back, he closed and locked the vehicle, grabbed his suitcase, and turned to Stinky.

"All right, where to?"


	4. Camp What-a-Nut

All right, here comes chapter 4! Please don't forget to review as well as read! I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on what you're thinking of the story thus far. Thank you to all my readers! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Helga, are you up?"

"I've been up for hours, Miriam! It's twelve thirty!" Helga called through her locked door.

"Ok, well, you're going to miss your flight if you don't catch the next bus! Are you all packed?"

"Yes, Mother!" Helga threw open the door to her room to survey Miriam on the other side. Her square, frameless glasses were perched on the tip of her nose, somewhat lopsided, and her short, corn-colored hair was only slightly disheveled. Helga sighed. At least she probably hadn't had more than one smoothie today.

"No need to be angry, Helga," Miriam said, following her down the stairs as she made her way to the foyer, her suitcase clunking along in her wake.

"You got everything you need, girl?" her father asked, swaggering in from the den.

"No thanks to you, Bob," Helga retorted. "I still don't understand why you can't drive me to the airport. Every time Olga comes into town you practically roll out the red carpet."

"Hey hey hey, don't take that tone with me. You know I have a very important meeting with the contractor this morning that I can't miss," Bob said.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know," she muttered under her breath. "It's always something."

"Tell Olga we love her, and the kids," Miriam said, kissing Helga on the cheek in farewell.

"I'm sure she already knows," Helga said, confident that the irony of the statement would be wasted on her oblivious mother.

"Have a good time, girl, and don't give Olga any trouble, y'hear?" Bob said.

Helga placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. "See you in three months," she said lackadaisically, and with that walked out onto the sidewalk. From the base of her front stoop she proceeded to the nearest bus stop three blocks away, dragging her luggage along the uneven pavement. It bumped along noisily behind her, and she could feel her cheeks reddening with the heat of embarrassment and humiliation. Not a word from either of her parents about being safe or calling when she landed. Not a word about walking with her to the bus stop, at the very least, and waving goodbye as it pulled away. Not a word about loving her, only Olga. Her mother's small peck on the cheek did little to suffice in the face of such obvious disregard.

As she waited at the bus stop her thoughts turned to earlier that morning, when she had spied Arnold from her window cruising by in his grandfather's Packard, Lila in the seat beside him, on his way to camp. Her anger at Lila's presence had lasted only a moment, replaced by something much more permanent and resilient – longing. A deep, desperate longing to be loved by the one person who had never shunned her, never been anything but decent to her, even kind. She couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had tried to understand her, tried and been shut down by her fear of rejection that manifested itself in stubborn antagonism.

"Oh, Arnold," she sighed, "if only we could spend these next three months together, for I don't know how I shall endure mine without you. If only I could be by your side, in your mere presence to hear your soft, lilting voice as it offers encouragement and provision to so many schoolboys in need of your quiet guidance and clarity. If only."

The bus pulled up at the stop, hissing in protest of the screeching brakes as the door folded open and Helga fished for the necessary fare in her jean pocket. One foot on the first step, she suddenly jerked her head around as a familiar voice rocketed into her ear, calling her name.

"Helga, wait!" Phoebe was running down the sidewalk as fast as her short legs would carry her in an attempt to reach the girl before the bus pulled away.

"Criminy, Pheebs, don't kill yourself."

Phoebe bent at the waist as she reached a sudden stop beside Helga, her breathing coming in short gasps. "I wanted to make sure I caught you," she managed after a moment.

"You gettin' on, girl? I can't hold the bus all day," the driver said from inside the vehicle.

"I've paid my fare. Just gimme a second, pal."

"I'm sorry to hold you up. I meant to arrive sooner," Phoebe said. "I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you well in Boston. I know you're not looking forward to it, but I hope you still manage to have a good time."

Helga smirked. "Thanks, Pheebs. I hope you have a good summer too."

"It won't be the same without you."

Helga's smirk broadened into a genuine smile then and she enveloped her best friend in a warm embrace. "Thanks, Phoebe," she said again.

Pulling away, she felt the girl nudging a book into her hands. "What's this?"

"Something to read on the plane. It's important for us to keep up with our summer reading assignments for next year."

Back to the smirk again, accompanied by a slight chuckle. "Thanks, Phoebe."

Helga boarded the bus then, selected her seat, and looked back over her shoulder as it pulled away from the curb. Phoebe was still standing there, waving goodbye.

* * *

Stinky and Nadine had been recruited the summer beforehand for Mr. Simmons' revival of Camp What-a-Nut, namely because they were both such outdoor enthusiasts. Ever since his great pumpkin had sprouted out of the ground back in the fourth grade, Stinky had come to love gardening just as much as his family had loved farming. The fruits of his labor had produced the best garden in the city, so it was only natural that Mr. Simmons would approach him to teach all of the gardening sessions at camp. As for Nadine, her passion for wildlife made her the perfect candidate to lead nature walks, melding educational trivia with invigorating activity.

Camp What-a-Nut had become Mr. Simmons' summer project two years prior, when he had gotten wind that it would be closing. Of course, this was nothing short of a catastrophe to the characteristically optimistic educator, who had always promoted the camp and often used it as a spot for field trips throughout the year. In his mind, it was the perfect location to help the children experience life outside of the city, teaching them survival skills as well as simply providing them a place to get away from the hustle and bustle they were so used to. Upon hearing that its owner would be retiring without a successor to carry on the camp's legacy, Mr. Simmons had instantly volunteered to keep the facility running, if only during the summer months. Happily, the result had been a success. Dozens of children had spent a glorious summer at Camp What-a-Nut the previous year, and, if all went as planned, this year would be yet another triumph of Mr. Simmons' relentless positivity.

"Did ya have a good drive out here, Arnold?" Stinky asked as they proceeded down the dirt path to the boys' cabins.

"Yeah, it was really nice," the boy replied.

Stinky grinned mischievously. "I'm sure it was with Lila sittin' beside you the whole way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, gosh, Arnold, everyone knows how you feel about Lila."

"Is it that obvious?" He was mortified.

Stinky nodded. "Yep."

"Great." Arnold sighed.

"You two sure would be a perfect couple. You reckon this'll be the summer you start goin' steady?"

"I guess that'll be up to her."

"Well, camp is one of those places where romance just naturally blossoms. I'm rootin' for ya, Arnold."

Another sigh. "Thanks, Stinky."

The remainder of the day was spent mixing and mingling with the other counselors, cleaning cabins, organizing sports equipment, and exploring the grounds. Just before dinner, Mr. Simmons gathered them all together and gave each of them a list of campers who would be in their charge for the summer, along with an itinerary of activities and programs. The rest of the evening was theirs.

"Why don't we start a bonfire and just sit around for a while?" Nadine suggested.

A chorus of affirmation followed, and the boys quickly set to work gathering the wood. In no time they had a roaring inferno contained within the fire pit in front of the main cabin, and everyone seemed to be staring abstractedly into the flames. It had been a long day, and the kids hadn't even arrived yet. Arnold could only imagine how tired he'd be by the end of the week. Still, as the soft crackle of the burning logs melded with the choir of crickets all about them, he felt a warm blanket of contentment wrapping itself around his body and knew there was no other place he'd rather be this summer. He looked up into the night sky and, for the first time in years, saw stars, not just satellites.

"Arnold," Lila said suddenly, clearing his haze, "didn't you bring your guitar?"

"Yeah."

"I think it'd be ever so fun to sing a few camp songs before turning in."

"Great idea, Lila," Nadine agreed.

Arnold nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll be right back."

He had taken up the guitar in middle school when Mr. Hyunh had finally agreed to teach him. The following Christmas, the boarder had bought him his very own acoustic guitar, and Arnold had continued to practice daily. It helped him clear his mind after a long day at school, and it lifted his spirits whenever he felt especially down, which, thankfully, wasn't too often. As the years had gone by and his extracurricular commitments had increased, some of the time he had originally devoted to the instrument had been surrendered for other passions, but he still managed to snag a few hours here and there to fiddle around on his guitar from time to time. He and Gerald had even performed a duet (he on guitar, Gerald on piano) for the school talent show the last two years.

Returning to the group after mere minutes, instrument in hand, Arnold promptly struck up a few familiar tunes, and soon everyone was singing along merrily. As they sang, he observed the faces around the fire, and his eyes finally came to rest upon Lila's. The orange glow of the blaze was casting shadows on the outline of her nose and the tops of cheeks whenever she blinked, and she was smiling so sweetly. Arnold was captivated.

An hour later, the executive decision was made to call it a night. After all, this would probably be one of the few evenings when they would actually be able to get some real sleep.

"Thanks for going to get your guitar, Arnold," Lila said as she stood, making her way over to him from across the fire pit. "You play ever so well."

"Thanks, Lila," he said, grateful that the heat of the fire had already painted his cheeks a soft shade of pink.

Looking over his shoulder he found Stinky standing only a few yards away, watching their entire interaction, and the moment Lila turned her back to leave with the other girls, he gave Arnold a playful grin and winked.


	5. Olga's House

And here we are - chapter 5! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far. Don't forget to keep 'em comin'! I'd love to hear your first impressions on Olga's family. Just a note: my updates may not be as frequent in the future as things are starting to get a bit more intense in my coursework and I'm finding it harder to have time for my own personal writing, but I promise to keep updating as soon as possible! Who knows? If you submit a review, it might spur me on to find a little more time for my own writing that much faster. ;)

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**Chapter 5**

"Over here, baby sister!" Olga wiggled her fingers in the air enthusiastically as Helga turned from the baggage carousel, suitcase in hand, and trudged toward her sister with a sigh.

"Don't you think I'm a little old for you to still be calling me your baby sister, Olga?" she said.

"You'll always be my baby sister, Helga," Olga retorted, wrapping her arms about her and planting a sloppy kiss on her left cheek.

Helga stiffened. "Fine, whatever, but could you not yell it across the entire airport? I'm seventeen years old, for cryin' out loud."

"I'm sorry, Helga," Olga said, pulling away. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Helga lifted her eyebrow curiously. This was new. Within her sister's expression she read genuine repentance and contrition when, ordinarily, she was entirely oblivious to the way she made others feel, at least as far as Helga was concerned. Oh sure, there had been moments, but they were few and far between; so it was only too easy for her to chock this one up to another fluke and log it away.

"Let's just get outta here." And with that she stomped off toward the exit.

"Can I get your suitcase for you?" Olga offered.

"I think I can manage," Helga said, somewhat patronizing. "So where are Chet and the brat- I mean, kids?" She corrected herself just in time, praying that Olga hadn't heard her thoughtless slip of the tongue. It was all right to call her sister's children "brats" on her own time, and even with her parents (since they were so oblivious), but even she knew it would be incredibly hurtful to refer to them as such to Olga's face. She was their mother, after all.

To be honest, she really didn't know them at all. There hadn't been much to know, other than that they ate, they slept, they cried, and they pooped. She had always felt uncomfortable holding them, as if they were these alien creatures with which she was unable to form any connection whatsoever. As they grew, they could be easily entertained with blinking lights and repetitive sounds, but playing with them had always seemed so mind-numbingly boring. They visited twice a year – Thanksgiving and Christmas – but since both Olga and Chet were teachers, their visits were never longer than a few days at most (thank God), hardly long enough to bond on any real scale. Helga couldn't even remember how old they must be now, try as she might. On a certain level, when she really thought about it, it did bother her. She was their aunt after all. She knew she should be more invested in their lives, no matter what her relationship (or lack thereof) with Olga was like, but she lacked the motivation to actually do anything about it. As for Chet, Olga's husband, she hardly knew a single, solitary thing about him, and had no desire to.

"At the house," Olga replied as they entered the garage where her vehicle was parked. "I wanted to come pick you up myself. I thought it'd be nice to spend some sister time together on the drive back, just you and me."

"Really?" Helga considered her out of the corner of her eye somewhat skeptically.

"Of course really. We haven't talked in such a long time. I'm sure we have lots to catch up on."

Helga shrugged. "Not really. Everything's same old, same old for me."

"But you'll be starting your senior year next year. You must be so excited. I know I was."

"Well, I'm not you, Olga," Helga retorted.

"I know that." Olga's voice was soft as they reached the car and she opened the trunk.

Helga heaved her suitcase inside then slammed down the hatch and walked around the side of the car to open the passenger door, Olga sliding into the driver's seat beside her.

"How was your baseball season this year?" she asked once they were out on the open highway.

"Softball," Helga corrected.

"Oh, that's right! Daddy always calls it baseball."

"I'm surprised he even mentioned it at all. It's not like he's ever come to any games."

"Oh, that's not true. I'm sure he's come to some of your games. He's told me about them."

"Maybe once or twice," Helga assented with another signature shrug. "As long as it's convenient for him."

"I'm sorry, Helga."

There it was again – a genuine apology accompanied by a tone of authentic concern. She didn't know how to react, so she simply shrugged yet again.

"It's not a big deal. I'm always nervous whenever he comes anyway. Sometimes I'll play an amazing game knowing he's there watching, but other times I'll really bomb out because he's sitting there yelling his head off at me the whole time. Then I never hear the end of it."

"He does have very high standards," Olga agreed with a nod.

"And who set those standards so high for him, do ya think?" Helga mumbled under her breath. Then she crossed her arms, slouched down in her seat, and turned her head to stare out the window.

Olga noted these mannerisms in her peripheral vision and decided not to press any further for the time being. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Olga's house was exactly what Helga had expected, right down to the white picket fence lining the pristine acre of fiercely green grass. The flowerbeds at the end of the driveway as well as those surrounding the house didn't have a single weed that she could see, and the yellow siding of the quaint, colonial cottage, bouncing sunlight off its panels as if it were attempting to blind anyone who so much as blinked in the house's direction, looked as if it had just been painted, as did the dark green shutters that adorned every window. A simple screen guarded the front door (also dark green), which opened onto a small, shaded porch supported by two small columns. Of course this was Olga's house – perfect, just like her.

"We're home!" she cried joyfully, bursting through the front door with Helga in tow.

"Mommy!"

Two distinct sets of footsteps accompanied the voices, stampeding from the back of the house toward them. It wasn't long before Olga was scooping the children up in her arms and kissing their cheeks in turn, first the boy's, then the girl's. As Helga watched the scene unfold certain details began to fall into place, important details she had forgotten until this moment. Ivan had been born first, only eleven months before Heidi. She had been in middle school at the time, so that made him about five now, if she wasn't mistaken. Looking at him now, that seemed about right. That meant the girl must be three, or maybe four? When were their birthdays again? It was sometime in the summer. Suddenly Helga noticed a deflated cluster of balloons floating in the far corner of the room and grinned, congratulating herself on her memory. Heidi's birthday must have just passed. Crap. She should have sent a card. The smile vanished.

"Look who I brought with me." Olga set the children back on the ground and nodded toward Helga.

They simply stared at her, studying her confusedly for a moment.

"It's your Aunt Helga," Olga said. "Remember we talked about her coming to stay with us for the summer?"

"Did you bring Heidi a present? It was her birthday last week," Ivan said.

"I guess I forgot," Helga replied, scratching the back of her head nervously.

Ivan's mouth dropped. "Forgot?"

"Aunt Helga just got out of school. She's been very busy. She's a big base- softball star," Olga said, correcting herself with a knowing glance at Helga.

Helga smirked, if only momentarily.

"What's softball?" Ivan asked.

"It's like baseball, only for girls," Helga said simply, knowing it would be pointless to try to explain the finer points of the game to a child his age.

The boy's eyes widened and he stared at Helga, fascinated. "You play baseball?"

"Yeah, sorta." Helga shrugged.

"I love baseball," he said.

She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "You do?"

"Chet's a Red Sox fan," Olga supplied with a smile. "I guess it runs in the family." She tousled Ivan's hair lovingly. "Maybe you and Ivan can play together this summer. You can teach him some of the finer points."

Helga looked down into the eager young face staring up at hers expectantly. "Yeah, maybe," she murmured, averting her gaze.

"It's good to see you, Helga." A much older voice greeted her as its owner stepped into the room – a man with blond hair and blue eyes, just like the children. In fact, he looked very much like Olga's first fiancé, Doug. What could Helga say? Her older sister certainly had a type, down to the number of letters in the man's first name. Except Chet wasn't a "would-be" actor, he was a teacher, like Olga. However, while Olga's passion was directed more toward grade-school age children, Chet taught United States history to junior and senior high school students. He was a Red Sox fan too, apparently.

"Yeah, you too, Chet," Helga muttered. "Thanks for having me." She held out her hand to shake his, but the man merely ignored her gesture, wrapping her in a genuine embrace of brotherly affection instead.

"No thanks necessary. We're happy to have you. In fact, when Olga first suggested your coming to stay for the summer, I thought it was a stroke of genius. It'll be the perfect opportunity for you to really bond with the kids. After all, they don't have any other aunts or uncles. And we'd love to show you around Boston and get you acquainted with the schools in the area. Your dad mentioned that you were thinking about some of the universities around here as options for college."

"Yeah?" Helga was instantly defensive. "What does he know about it?"

"That's just what he told us," Chet replied, eyeing Olga nervously. From the small amount of experience he had with Helga, he had gathered that the girl was often moody and argumentative, but he didn't know just what he had said this time to garner such a response.

"Apparently Daddy and Helga haven't actually talked that much about college," Olga said, attempting to smooth over any ruffled feathers, "but there will be plenty of time for us to talk about it later. Right now, I bet you're starving, and the last thing you want to think about at the beginning of your summer vacation is more school." She laughed good-naturedly.

"Of course, what was I thinking? I guess as teachers we're always thinking about school whether we like it or not." Chet laughed too and reached out a hand to touch Olga's tenderly.

She nodded softly.

Helga offered a small, simulated smile in return. She could see they were truly trying to make her feel welcome, but somehow all of their attempts were falling flat.

"All right, everyone, into the dining room!" Olga cried.

"The dining room?" Ivan inquired. "But we never eat in there."

"Well, we're going to tonight, in honor of your aunt's visit."

"You better not spill your milk, Heidi."

"I won't," Heidi grumbled, her first words of the evening.

"Now, children, don't fight. Go wash your hands and sit down at the table while I show your aunt her room, then we'll eat."

"I'll put the food on the table," Chet said.

"Thank you, darling." Olga smiled graciously upon her husband as Ivan and Heidi darted off down the hallway, then she turned to Helga. "Come on, baby sister; I have the guest room all ready for you."

As Helga followed her older sister down the hall, she surveyed the numerous family portraits dotting the walls. Big, toothy grins were plastered upon Ivan's face in every photo while soft, demure smiles graced Heidi's more delicate features. Olga looked prim and elegant, as always, and her well-groomed, perfectly-tailored husband complemented her so precisely it was almost sickening. The perfect family for her perfect sister, living together in the perfect house. Perfect, perfect, perfect. This summer was going to be a nightmare.

Dinner only served to reinforce Helga's fears. In honor of her arrival, Olga had prepared a veritable smorgasbord: a four-course Italian dinner all made from scratch – garlic bread, minestrone soup, a fresh garden salad, chicken parmesan, spaghetti with meat sauce, and the lightest, fluffiest tiramisu Helga had ever tasted for dessert. It was too much, the food as well as the feelings the meal evoked. After dinner, she feigned a headache, stating that she was simply worn out from her day of travel and just needed to catch up on some much-needed sleep. So, while Olga got the kids ready for bed and Chet carried the mountain of dishes into the kitchen, Helga disappeared into her room and collapsed spread-eagle onto the bed. Lying there, perfectly still, she stared at the popcorn ceiling until her vision blurred, then she allowed the tears pooling in her eyes to silently spill over her lids and onto her cheeks.


	6. Andy and Lily

Hello, all! I am SO sorry it's been almost two months since my last update. My assignments for grad school have been taking up a lot of my free time recently, and the rest of the time I've had to myself I've been so exhausted that it's been a challenge to sit down and write. I truly hope it won't be that long until my next update, but I can't make any promises, LOL. Still, please keep the reviews coming! They really do encourage and inspire me to keep writing my own stuff, even when I've had to spend hours writing a boring, ol' paper instead.

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**Chapter 6**

Morning dawned bright and early the next day, and Arnold opened his eyes without the aid of any potato-fueled alarm clock repeating his name. The sunlight shining directly into his eyes was a more than adequate substitute. Two busloads of children were scheduled to arrive at nine o'clock. His wristwatch read six-thirty. Just enough time to catch a quick shower and hurry to the mess hall for breakfast.

"Did ya sleep well, Arnold?" Stinky asked, joining Arnold on his short walk to the main cabin.

"I don't think I've slept so well in a long time, not since my last camping trip. It's so quiet out here, and it feels so good to wake up with the sun. I set my alarm, but I didn't even need it."

Stinky chuckled. "Don't worry; you will. The kids'll wear you out before ya know it."

Arnold nodded with a smile. "I'm sure they will, but I'll keep up."

A small buffet of assorted muffins and bagels was the first thing to catch the boys' eyes as they entered the mess hall, complemented by a colorful tray of various fruits and several large chafing trays filled with bacon and sausage, biscuits, scrambled eggs, and hashbrowns respectively. A great bowl full of ice was stocked with milk, water, and orange juice at one end of the long table, plates and silverware at the other. Arnold hadn't seen such a spread in a long time. It felt as if he was in a hotel, not in a little cabin in the middle of the woods.

Stinky took a substantial whiff of the delicious air and hurried to get in line behind the other counselors who had already arrived.

"Is there always such a large spread for breakfast?" he asked, grabbing a plate and fork and selecting a hot biscuit from the first tray.

Stinky nodded. "On Saturdays and Sundays we have waffles too."

"Wow."

"Lunch ain't quite so big, but supper's always mighty hearty too. We need all the fuel we can get, after all."

Even with Stinky's promise that he'd soon be eating nearly everything in sight, Arnold only managed to down half a biscuit, two slices of bacon, and a small spoonful of scrambled eggs with his orange juice, stuffing a banana in his pocket for later. He had never been a big eater, which was probably another reason his figure was still so slim. His shoulders had definitely broadened and his chest and arm muscles were more defined, a pleasant side effect of his position on the baseball team, but the majority of his evolution over the years had been upward, not outward. Of course, his height was nothing compared to Gerald's, who, with the addition of his tall stack of curls, now towered above most of his classmates at six feet and five inches. Arnold, on the other hand, stood five foot eleven and fell somewhere nicely in the middle, as he always seemed to. For all of his best friend's claims that he was "a bold kid," Arnold had never seen himself that way. He didn't find himself particularly brave or talented or outstanding in any way. He was just Arnold – an average kid with an average life. Well, maybe there was that one time…

"All right, counselors, the buses should be arriving any minute," Mr. Simmons announced. "As I'm sure you noticed from your itineraries, there aren't any specific activities planned for today. Just get to know your kids and show them around the camp. We'll all meet back here for dinner and a bonfire at seven o'clock, okay?"

Everyone nodded as the first bus pulled up in front of the mess hall, and no sooner did the doors of the large, yellow vehicle open than the children came pouring out, each one a pent-up ball of inexhaustible energy. Somehow, though, Mr. Simmons managed to get their attentions and organize them into their specific groups, introducing them to their respective counselors. Many of the kids Arnold already knew from the streets of the city as well as the halls of P.S. 118. It seemed Mr. Simmons frequently asked for his assistance in running certain programs at the elementary school, and Arnold, being the good-natured youth that he was, was always eager to help. But it was more than mere philanthropy for him. Arnold truly enjoyed spending time with the kids, getting to know them and giving them advice when they asked for it. He also loved going back to his roots, walking the halls of the familiar, old building and reminiscing about days gone by. He had always been a dreamer, and that, it seemed, would never change, nor did he want it to.

The kids loved Arnold. He was their friend and confidante, so soft-spoken and understanding. He listened to their problems with genuine interest and concern and gave each one serious consideration, regardless of how trivial they might really have been. He might not have been the strongest, the tallest, or the fastest, but he was the kindest, and, when the occasion called for it, he usually proved himself the bravest as well.

There were two children, however, Arnold did not recognize as he watched them descend the steps of the bus – a boy and a girl whose matching expressions were more bewildered than excited. The girl, whose dark hair and eyes were replicas of her counterpart's, clung nervously to his hand as the boy surveyed the scene, searching for some semblance of order in the midst of the chaos. There was no mistaking their relationship, not merely brother and sister but twins. Arnold pegged them at about seven years old, judging by their size and stature, but something about their faces led him to believe that, mentally, they were much older than that. The boy, in particular, reminded him of himself, though he had no idea why. The two looked nothing alike, yet he couldn't shake the familiar feeling he got when he saw him. It was almost like déjà vu.

"You two must be Andrew and Lily Birdman," Mr. Simmons greeted them enthusiastically as the doors of the bus closed and it began to pull away. "Welcome to Camp What-a-Nut!"

"Thanks," the boy replied.

"I'm Mr. Simmons, the camp director, and I am so thrilled you're here. You just moved here from Iowa, if I'm remembering your registration papers correctly, right?"

Andrew nodded.

"That's wonderful! I know it must have been hard to leave your friends back home, but you're going to make lots of new friends this summer who will be your classmates next year."

Clearly, the twins did not share Mr. Simmons' glowing sentiments, returning his sunny smile with their own blank stares.

"Well, uh, why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you to your counselors?" And with that Mr. Simmons led the pair into the boisterous throng.

"Arnold! Lila!" he called above the din, summoning the two adolescents to his side. "I have some very special kids to introduce to you. This is Andrew and Lily Birdman, and they just moved here from Iowa only a week ago. I got a call from their father asking if we had any room left and told him we would be more than happy to have them join our little family this summer. I didn't have time to add them to your lists, but I'd like for Lily to join your group, Lila, and Andrew to join yours, Arnold. I know you'll both make sure that they feel right at home here in no time."

"Of course we will, Mr. Simmons," Lila said immediately, dropping down on one knee to address Lily.

"Hi, Lily, I'm Lila. It's ever so nice to meet you. I love how our names are almost exactly the same, don't you? I bet Mr. Simmons did that on purpose." She winked and Lily offered a soft smile in return. "Would you like to come with me to meet the other girls in our group?"

Lily nodded hesitantly, looking back at her brother momentarily.

"Go on, Lil," he coaxed. "I'll see ya later."

"Okay," she said, taking Lila's outstretched hand. "Bye, Andy!"

The boy turned then to study his own counselor.

"I'm glad to meet you too, Andrew," Arnold said.

"You can call me Andy," he said.

"Okay." Arnold smiled. "I'm Arnold, and we're going to have a lot of fun together this summer."

But the boy looked as if he rather doubted his new counselor's hopeful promise.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the day, Arnold observed Andy with great interest. There wasn't anything particularly "different" about him, at least not that he could put his finger on, and yet he didn't seem to fit in with the other kids. He was certainly quieter, but that was only natural for anyone just starting to get to know a new group of people. No, there was something more lingering behind Andrew Birdman's listless expression, some kind of melancholy beyond his years that made him much more contemplative than his peers – not gloomy, just more serious, perhaps even a bit sad. It intrigued Arnold, but more than anything it made him want to do everything in his power to cheer him up, make him feel included and accepted. If he could do that, maybe one day Andy would open up to him, and maybe then he could help him with whatever it was that seemed to be bothering him so much.

Around four o'clock that afternoon several groups of boys started a football game on one of the open fields. Arnold watched as the kids elected captains and the two boys then began the humiliating practice of choosing their teammates. Andy positioned himself at the back of the group, eventually removing himself entirely from the lineup, going to take a seat on a bench by the equipment shed instead. Chin cradled in his palms, elbows digging into his knees, the boy watched as the game began without him.

"Not a football fan?" a voice asked.

Andy looked up to find Arnold smiling down upon him, his large, football-shaped head blocking the harsh rays of the sun behind him so that his face appeared dark and shadowed, encircled by a ring on brilliant, yellow light. He shrugged in response.

"I like it all right," he said.

"Then what are you doin' over here on the sidelines?" Arnold asked, sitting down beside him.

"I'm sick of getting picked last."

"How do you know you'd be picked last?"

"Because I always am."

"Well, that's just because the other kids don't know you yet. Once you start playing and showing them what you can do, I bet that won't happen anymore," Arnold assured him with his customary dose of sunny optimism.

Andy shook his head. "It wouldn't make a difference. I've never fit in with other kids. I guess they think I'm weird."

Arnold furrowed his brow sadly. "Why would they think that?"

Andy shrugged again. "I don't know, maybe because I'm a little quieter, I guess. That's what Mrs. Jones told me once, anyway."

"Who's Mrs. Jones?"

"She was our foster mother back in Iowa."

Arnold raised a quizzical eyebrow, urging the boy to continue.

"Lily and I are orphans," Andy elaborated, lifting his head and turning to look Arnold fully in the face.

"Well, now that's a coincidence," Arnold said with a soft smile. "I'm an orphan too."

Andy's eyes widened. Clearly it was the last thing he had expected to hear in response to his statement. "Really?"

Arnold nodded. "Yep. I've never had any foster parents though. I live with my grandparents."

"Lily and I don't know any of our family," Andy said.

"I'm sorry." Arnold placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know it's hard. It's good that you have your sister."

Andy nodded. "Yeah."

"You know, from the minute I saw you I knew we had a connection. I could feel it."

Andy smiled then for the first time all day. "I like you, Arnold. You're nice."

The teenager beamed. "I like you too, Andy, and I also like Frisbee. What about you?"

"Sure!"

"All right, I'll grab a Frisbee and we can play until dinner, which should be pretty soon." Arnold glanced at his watch then disappeared momentarily into the shed.

As the Frisbee flew back and forth through the air, he watched as the grim expression on Andy's face gradually transformed into one of simple satisfaction, and the smile on his own grew larger. It felt so good to help in whatever way he could, and he hoped he truly was helping. Andy and Lily's situation was unlike any of the others his friends and neighbors had brought before him over the years, and it left him speechless, even though he felt like he was the one person who should have been the most equipped to deal with their dilemma. Instead, however, he felt utterly helpless – a sensation he did not often feel, nor with which he was comfortable. What could he really offer these children? Yes, he was an orphan too, but he didn't know what it was like to be tossed from house to house, family to family; to feel unwanted and starved for acceptance from his peers. He had grown up in the same house, surrounded by the same people his entire life. He was both well known and well liked by all who knew him. He was Arnold, and, being Arnold, he was determined to find some way to help. Somehow. He just had to give it time. It would come to him. It had to.

"Hey Arnold!"

Lila waved from across the field and began making her way toward the two boys, Lily in tow.

Arnold's heart skipped a beat and a giant grin instantly spread across his lips. "Hey Lila! What's up?"

"The rest of my girls are swimming in the lake, but Lily and I thought we'd take a little stroll and see what everyone else was up to. It looks like you two are having ever so much fun. Could we join you?"

"Sure! Lily, why don't you go stand by your brother down there, but spread out, okay?"

The girl nodded and hurried off across the grass.

Lila smiled and turned to place several feet of distance between herself and Arnold as well, but before she did she drew nearer, placing her hands on the Frisbee in his hands and leaning in to speak softly in his ear.

"I was watching you two on the bench when we were going down to the lake. Andy looked so sad. Lily must have noticed too because she seemed worried and didn't want to join the other girls when we got there. I think she wanted to check on Andy when she asked if we could go on a walk instead. I was ever so happy to see you playing Frisbee together when we came back up the path. Andy looks much happier now. You really must have cheered him up. I just wanted you to know that I think it was ever so sweet of you. You're already such a wonderful counselor, Arnold."

Her lips were so close to his ear he could feel her breath upon it, and the combination of her body's position so close to his own mixed with the sweet words she had just uttered instantly turned his entire head bright red as the heat emanating from it shot down his spine into his extremities. His fingers and toes tingled with excitement and his head felt as if it were swimming. It wasn't as though he had never received a compliment from Lila before. On the contrary, she dished them out like they were going out of style. Still, something about this interaction felt different. She was so close, and her expression was so doting, and her voice had been so soft. Could it be that she might actually begin to develop feeling for him at last? He hated to hope, and yet hoping was precisely what he did best.


End file.
